


Alarming Levels of MettaFrisk - Underfell Edition (ON HIATUS)

by LokiLiesmith



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Continuation, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, MettaFrisk, Mettaton x Frisk, MettatonxFrisk, Nonbinary, Nonbinary Frisk, Other, Sequel, Underfell, h/c, hurt Mettaton, more tags later (probably), undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7548565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiLiesmith/pseuds/LokiLiesmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk is now an adult, and the respected royal ambassador. This life seems too perfect to not be messed up by an involuntary reset, landing Frisk in Underfell. It's hard to stay a true pacifist in this world, but Frisk is determined to save everyone. Especially this hurt, hated, enslaved version of their one true love (Underfell!Mettaton x Frisk, nonbinary Frisk)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alarming Levels of MettaFrisk - Underfell Edition (ON HIATUS)

"… they hate me… Frisk… I beg of you… please… let me die…"

You were _almost_ used to it, actually: Waking up to the feeling of complete disorientation, to the feeling of wrongness, as if someone had ripped you from your own world, threw you into another, and then took it into giant hands and shook it thoroughly for good measure.

The last time it had happened, you had been as relieved as can be. You were given a second chance at life (especially _others'_ lives); a chance to make amends for all of your many wrongdoings.

This time around, it seemed universe had it in for you.

You certainly hadn't wished for another reset with all of your might, with all of your… determination, as you did once. It happened nevertheless, and you were caught in a never-ending nightmare.

"NO! They don't matter!"

It seemed as if the beautiful, peaceful life you had fought so hard for never existed. All of your achievements were simply erased. Here, you were not the monsters' emissary, but their enemy. Here, you were not to enroll at a prestigious university, not the popular royal ambassador, the one who got to live in a nice house and wear cashmere jumpers. You were the scruffy orphan no one wanted, all over again. You remembered falling asleep, encircled by your lover's arms, listening to the cute little dialing noises he made when he dreamed, relishing in his warmth. Relishing in the knowledge of having love, not LOVE, of having friends, of having a positive effect on everyone.

Yet here you were, after fighting your way through half the Underground once more. In this perfectly absurd situation. Trying to restrain flailing limbs, to subdue a trashing body, which was far too strong for you to measure with.

"They do! They are all I have and they _despise_ me! I fail at everything! I fail even at killing a measly human! LET ME PUSH THAT BLASTED BUTTON!"

The desperate scream drowned the cacophony of hatred, streaming through all the open call lines.

"No."

"I hate you, Frisk."

"I don't mind."

"I hate myself."

You smiled sadly. At least you weren't the tongue-tied, awkward teen you used to be:

"… I'll love you enough for the both of us, then."

* * *

The first thing that came into focus was an abundance of golden flowers. You blinked and heaved a quiet sigh.

_Of course. What else is new?_

"Howdy! I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower!"

_As previously mentioned, nothing really._

Then again, you were truly happy to see the guy. You were determined to save him too now, evil flower or not, instead of leaving him behind, all alone. Your guilty conscience weighed heavier than Mount Ebott itself.

"Golly, you must be so confused!" he exclaimed. "Someone ought to teach you how things work down h-"

You interrupted him by placing both of your hands around his stem, pulling him in, and planting a big wet kiss on his soft, pollen-y face.

"I missed you. How about we skip the friendliness pellets?"

In retrospect, you should have sensed something was amiss; Flowey was… nice. After taking some long minutes to recover from the shock you gave him, he smiled, instead of calling you "idiot". He also blushed cutely (despite the fact that blushing flowers shouldn't exist, just as talking flowers shouldn't, that is). His petals were different too, they were all torn, but he refused to tell you who'd abused him like that.

He thanked you nevertheless for your concern. _Thanked_ you. Still you didn't realize this alone was proof you landed in another dimension. Toriel, however, convinced you. She was… certifiably insane.

The only mother figure you had ever known tried to kill you. Actually, she did kill you once. It hurt on much more levels than only the physical one, when she burned you to a crisp, laughing maniacally the whole time.

"I guess you won't be asking her how to leave the Ruins next time?" mumbled Flowey.

He was snuggled up to you, his stem around your waist (which should have had you panicking, coming to think of it), his adorable face a mask of worry, hovering over yours. You wondered whether _this_ Flowey's features were able to shift to hatred and creepiness in a matter of seconds. Probably not.

"I-I w-won't," you croaked. "S-sorry for not listening to you." You blinked, but refrained from asking as to why he was aware of the reload that had just occurred. You knew the answer already; this fact about Flowey didn't seem to be different.

"Well, you _are_ a stubborn, determined… wait, are you a boy or a girl?"

You froze. _Here we go_ , you thought sullenly. Being pressured into gender roles, as soon as you let someone in on your _biological_ gender. Well, at least by humans, who plain hated anyone who dared not be normal in a hundred miles radius around their perfect little lives. Monsters were different, yet there was only one of them, in this or any other dimension, whom you would trust with this: The one you loved with all of your heart.

"Does it matter?"

"It… doesn't actually."

Flowey frowned and muttered something about "boat person" in addition to that, but then he was smiling again, shrugging. Despite his non-existent shoulders.

"Anyways. Please let me guide you from now on. I know Toriel, the way she reacts to certain situations." He hid in your overly large, blue jumper again. It was somewhat comforting, the warm softness of his very thorn-free stem around you. He mumbled against the skin of your belly: "I would, seeing as she's my mother."

You froze for the second time in mere minutes; _your_ Flowey wouldn't have been so open about this. He would have lead you on and on.

"She hates me. After she killed me repeatedly when I told her who I was, and what happened to me after my death… long story, so I guess it's not for now… I gave up trying. I rather stayed hidden, and I helped people who fell down here."

"And how many of them made it to Asgore?" you asked quietly.

"How do you know of him?!" Flowey cried, his head popping out from under the hem of your jumper. He then slumped and whispered brokenly: "None. He only had to conveniently collect the souls. She… she hoped he'd take her back I reckon. She murdered all of them. And, unlike you, they stayed dead."

When Toriel came to collect you again, you were still feeling numb on the inside.

This time, you changed strategy: You didn't bat an eyelash at her sinister appearance, and thanked her profusely for "saving" you:

"There was an evil, speaking flower!" you sniffled in the most infantile, helpless voice you could muster. "But he ran away when you came!"

You felt Flowey trembling against you, hopefully in silent laughter instead of fear. You accepted the hand she was offering you, as she was leading you inside the ruins like a little kid, despite your shuddering at her touch; if you closed your eyes, she felt like _your_ Toriel. Sadness overcame your usual determination.

"Worry not my child, I will protect you from now on."

She left you to wait in a creepy room with blood red walls. It was okay, as it was still less fear-inducing than Toriel herself. This time, you didn't do as she said, but proceeded, just like back then when you had been far younger than now. The order of the rooms confused you, until you realized they were simply mirror-inverted. Even the SAVE point was glittering under a pile of leaves, just as you remembered it.

If Toriel killed you again, at least you wouldn't have to start from the beginning. Flowey was in absolute awe of your "special powers", as he dubbed them; that was when you realized yet another difference to the Flowey of your timeline.

On the broken tiles of the balcony overlooking the Ruins, there lay a rusty, metal dagger, glinting in the weak light.

"Better take it," said Flowey.

You reached for it, trying not to vomit. The memories of blood and dust and what you had done once, flooded away what was left of your frail sanity. Your hands trembled.

"Why is it not plastic?"

"What? Frisk, are you alright?"

"J… just… peachy."

"You're as white as a newly painted wall. If we had white walls here, that is."

"It's nothing." _Just the triggered memories of a mass murderer_ , you thought, full of guilt.

The little monsters populating the ruins were either scared of you, or downright malicious. The latter outweighed the former, unfortunately, so you were covered in little wounds and scratches by the time you reached Home.

"Golly, Frisk! That dagger isn't for decoration, y'know? In this world, it's kill or be killed!"

"Then I'm supposedly the 'be killed' one."

There was no way you would ever raise your weapon against another being ever again. Flowey was shaking his head, sighing, before slipping under your dirty jumper again.

"Hopeless."

Toriel jumped in shock at seeing you in front of her house. However, instead of healing and coddling you, Toriel scolded you. Well, you probably… kind of deserved the pain anyway?

From then on, every little occurrence happened in the exact same order. Starting with your new room, containing shoes and dusty drawings and plenty of other reminders of the dead, to:

"Frisk, would you mind helping me with the meat pie?"

"Oh no!" you squeaked. "I totally forgot about that!"

You bolted.

"Frisk, not now, she's going to come after you right away!" hissed Flowey frantically.

You didn't even bother listening, despite that uncomfortable little voice at the back of your head, kindly informing you about what happened the last time you didn't take Flowey's advice. You stumbled down the stairs, panting. Not out of exhaustion, but out of sheer fear. You were anything but keen on assisting Toriel again in dissecting - no, _vivisecting_ \- that poor Froggit she had caught, and stuff its dust into the pie dough. En lieu of sugar. Before trying to convince her you were not hungry. No, really. Not at all.

Toriel's heavy footfalls made the cracked red stone floor vibrate under your own.

"SO YOU'RE LEAVING ME TOO!" she screeched, similarly to the previous time she had caught you in the gloomy catacombs. "JUST LIKE THE OTHERS!"

You fell over your own feet at the most unfortunate moment, just like the soon-to-die attractive female character of bad quality horror flicks, scrapping your knees painfully.

"Nooo! Get up, get up!" wailed Flowey.

"How 'bout… y-you help me h-here?" you wheezed, getting to your feet once again, dashing as fast as your feet would carry you. "F-friendliness pellets… anyone?"

"What the _hell_ are friendl- RUUUN!"

The first fire balls singed your hair. Next thing you knew, Flowey had disappeared from under your jumper, and blocked Toriel's way.

"I won't let you hurt another one", he declared. His voice trembled, but he stood his ground, behind the weak magical barrier he had erected.

The golden glowing wasn't much, but it was enough to slow Toriel down, and to prevent her deadly fire magic from reaching you again. You assumed this nice break wouldn't last, so you didn't stop to admire Flowey's courage, or to listen to Toriel's screams and death threats. Flowey had wanted you to run, so you did exactly that. The heavy black doors of the ruins opened in front of you, after barely a touch. You blinked in surprise - then you stumbled out into gray light and powdery snow.

The unmistakable sound of a mechanism at work made you turn around, gasping: The doors were starting to close again, and still no sign of Flowey. You cursed softly; of _course_ he wouldn't make it out in time and have the doors close conveniently in Toriel's face.

And of course you weren't going to let him die. You would take any lecture from him about your dumb heroism, but you wouldn't lose him. Not again. There was still a big enough gap between the doors…

Before you could even finish the thought, he was there, popping out of the snow, out of breath, his shivering petals in even more disarray. Toriel stood behind the closing doors, shaking her fist at you both, and sobbing hysterically. Strangely enough, she didn't even try and cross the threshold.

"Worry not, Frisk," said Flowey quietly. "She can't do a single thing to you now. There's a magical barricade around the Ruins, especially designed for her magical signature. She cannot escape. The King banned her… forever."

You could literally hear your heart break to tiny little pieces at her tear-stained face.

"No," said Flowey in a stern voice.

You halted mid-step and hung your head, your outstretched hand falling at your side.

The doors fell shut, interrupting Toriel's cries for you to come back, leaving you to stand in the icy cold tranquility of Snowdin.

* * *

_To be continued…_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Welcome, darlings c: This is the sequel to ["Alarming levels of MettaFrisk"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7175453/chapters/16287599), a Mettaton x Frisk story. Yes, the one I didn't even finish yet; I admit I just love writing events in random order, then tying all the loose ends.
> 
> The happenings of this story take place after the game, and in Underfell this time, instead of Undertale (it can still be seen as canon continuation). Frisk is already an adult in this one.
> 
> I would like to remind you that I'm not a native speaker, and that constructive feedback is always helpful for an author. Happy reading C:


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